An Angry Man?
by Pamala
Summary: Johnny wakes along after " Destiny" and reacts


" AN ANGRY MAN? " By Pamala 1/1  
  
  
Feedback/ E-Mail: TrustNtruth@aol.com  
Rating: PG 13 for strong language  
Characters: Johnny and what may lurk in Johnny's head  
Spoilers: Destiny  
Archiving: Where ever ya like just e mail me first  
  
Disclaimer: Johnny and all things Dead Zone belong to Stephen King  
Piller2 .. USA etc.... No infringement intended  
  
Author notes: Getting into a new characters head is difficult.  
Thanks so much to Meg for years of Beta my XF stuff and now my DZ.  
And don't get freaking over Johnny's interest in his son. I promise its a good  
thing.  
  
  
" AN ANGRY MAN? " By Pamala 1/1  
  
  
  
Well, now, this *IS* a special moment in life now, isn't it?  
  
Sleeping naked on the floor ALONE!   
  
I suppose if I was a less complicated man I could take some juvenile pride in the fact that there was a woman with me at one point. But apparently, along with so many other curses, I seem to lack the blessing of simple male thought.  
  
She's gone!   
  
The fact that all she left behind was a plastic ring is a good indication that this was, what one of those *men of simplicity* might call, a good-bye fuck.  
  
Maybe I should feel lucky she was kind enough to ring my bell once for old time's sake before laying skid-marks in the drive to get home to her happy family?  
  
Maybe I should play it casual? I could thank her for the world class romp and make it clear I'm more than interested in being "Sarah's sex toy" if she gets the inclination to stray from her husband again in the near future.  
  
YEAH! Maybe being an everyday ASS would be convenient protection from beginning to touch the iceberg of what I'm really feeling.  
  
I can see *them*. Montages of visions enlighten me to what *they* feel. The images allow me to understand Sarah, Dana, and anyone I have the strength to lay a hand on.   
  
Christ! If there was any justice I'd have the ability to take my own screwed up head between my palms and really see myself. Instead I find I'm actually doomed to grope through all this the old fashion way.  
  
Fine! If that the way it is, I need to start looking at myself and actions like any other man would.  
  
After one look in the imaginary mirror, the fact that I am angry screams back at me.   
  
Angry? Hell, I'm good old fashion pissed to the core.   
  
I suppose, if I think about it, that emotion would be near the top of the list of natural feelings arising from my circumstances. My life was perfect. Now that is gone. All that is left are pieces and I have to figure how to fit them together.  
  
Anger. I can't really recall letting that particular demon run its course very often since I just sorta * woke up *.   
  
Maybe I need to?  
  
Of course routing the anger demon to the proper outlet is essential. It doesn't take much thought to see my anger at Sarah is misdirected.  
  
Just taking hold of her, long before the inclination struck to pull her into my arms, I could see the confusion. Her motives are not dark or deceitful. Lost and misdirected, sure, but I know more than anyone that her intent was by no means hurtful when she came to me.  
  
My God, I *was* dead!   
  
Sarah had a nice safety net allowing her to love me as long as lay in that coma. She could move on, have love, a family and still hold a place in her heart for the mythical first love that basically died in her arms.  
  
It was safe for her, Walt, and everyone concerned. Dead men rarely rise and set about reclaiming their lives.  
  
If I wasn't afraid of what I might actually see, I'd engage in the occasional pat on the shoulder with Walt and see if what I think of him might be real. But I can't let myself do that. I'm not going to. So in the absence of my special brand of insight, I'll take the average guy's method of understand and put myself in his shoes. Reverse the roles.   
  
If the woman I loved and built a life with had conceived a child with another man who she loved deeply and who had died later the same night, I would know without a doubt that that man would always be a ghost in our lives. I'd build that life just the same, knowing he wasn't coming back for her, allowing her to hold his memory, knowing that loving her and raising his son was the best I could do for her and this poor lost soul's memory.  
  
I was safe in that coma for Walt too.  
  
It makes sense.   
  
It's getting clear quickly my anger isn't in there at all. If I just had drifted away like they had expected, the fact that Sarah and Walt made a happy, loving life for the only part of me I left behind would be the very most I could have hope for.  
  
I can let the past go. I can think that through with little difficult or visionary assistance. I said good-bye and found peace with the loss my mother. I know I can let loving Sarah go too.  
  
Someday, given the same amount of time she had to let me go, I can find that place in my heart for the past and accept a future seeing Sarah married to a good man and making a life for our son.  
  
Our son?   
  
OH JESUS!   
  
Our son! My Son!!   
  
Like a knife into my chest it suddenly hits me. Is this where my anger lies?   
  
Can it be that I've been searching my head for answers that simply aren't there? The tightening in my chest and ache in my heart would seem to be a good indication.  
  
Maybe letting the past go has never been holding me back? Maybe it's a future I didn't know existed that I can't let go of.  
  
My mother is gone. Sarah is another man's wife.   
  
But Johnny *IS* my son.  
  
The life I knew faded away a very long time ago. How my future pans out down the line is a question only time will answer. But the one thing that is real as to what my life story will be in the end is that I am a father.  
  
WOW. How can anger and confusion turn to hopeful pride so damn fast.  
  
Easily, the crap shot of genetics could have given him Sarah's looks. But instead some greater plan I can't understand has made him the image of a child I once was. I can't look at him without the physical reminder that he is a part of me.  
  
He is my son. I was told that and I knew it.  
  
Every time I looked at him I could feel something powerful I guess I wasn't ready to understand. Something so basic that maybe my altered brain couldn't grasp it. Like every parent I can see now that a child, my child, is the best thing we can offer the future.  
  
Thank God I'm not that man of simplicity after all.  
  
Apparently I'm a man of some thought, a man who can see what's real, sans visions, and know that I can make it all right and be the best I can be because, like any other regular man, I am a father who owes that to his son.  
  
Damn, I suddenly feel pretty good!  
  
Well, actually, physically speaking I am freezing my sadly-out-of-shape ass off on this cold wood floor. But being a man of reason, I have the sense and ability to get myself to a warm soft bed and enjoy an emotional upgrade to .....  
  
Hopefully. 


End file.
